


You Called

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe), Boffin1710



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: AU, Childhood Memories, Difficult Decisions, Fae!Q, Friendship, Gen, Guardian - Freeform, Human!Bond, M/M, Missions, Post-Mission, Serious Injuries, Skyfall, Skyfall References, Unseelie!Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:49:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 17,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9298907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/pseuds/Boffin1710
Summary: In life we do things.  Some we wish we had never done.  Some we wish we could replay a million times in our heads.  But they all make us who we are, and in the end they shape every detail about us.  If we were to reverse any of them we wouldn’t be the person we are.  So just live.  Make mistakes.  Have wonderful memories. But never ever second guess who you are.  Where you have been, and most importantly where it is you’re going.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blue_hydrangea7539](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_hydrangea7539/gifts).



 

 

"What in the bloody hell is going on around here?  Which of you worked on this latest disaster of a weapon?!"

Q-branch minions scattered ahead of the wild-eyed agent, who stormed into Q-branch waving his Walther in the air.  He headed for the bank of workbenches in the back corner, completely ignoring the gathering of computer geeks in the centre of the room trying to conduct some sort of meeting.   

"Jammed.  Again!  What the fuck am I supposed to do with a gun that lets me down every bloody mission?  It almost got me killed!"

Bond turned abruptly, Walther still in hand, and almost collided with a slim, dark haired young tech who was poring over a tablet.  He hadn't heard the man approach, nor had he been aware that anyone was behind him.  Fuck!  He was more messed up than he realised.

"And yet here you are, 007.  I do hope you are not waving a loaded, unsafe gun in my department?"  The thin man didn't even look up from his tablet, simply pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose with one slim finger, and then held out his hand to take the gun.  Bond held onto it until a pair of green-grey eyes finally blinked at him from behind thick lenses.  "Well?  Was there anything else, 007?  I am rather busy."

"Where the bloody hell is Q, you smarmy little shite?  You'll probably shoot yourself in the foot if I hand it over."

Curious minions had started to sidle towards the pair, the better to hear what was being discussed.  Bond smirked at the gathering crowd that were trying to appear unobtrusive.  

The younger man cocked his head, assessing the blond agent.  A few facial cuts that had been hastily cleaned, and some bruising to his neck.  His gait as he had crossed the room suggested a leg injury also, but he held himself ready to attack at a moment's notice.  Here was a man who didn't appear to recognise that he was now safe on home soil.

"I am your new Quartermaster.  I suppose, if you must, you may call me Q.  Everyone else seems to."  His smile was brief but smug.  "I would shake your hand but..."

Both of their hands were still on the gun, and rather unwisely the barrel was pointed at the centre of Q's chest.  Delicately, he moved his hand out to the side slightly taking the gun, and Bond's hand, with it.  The agent's dark grey suit hid the fact he was bleeding, but the movement made his jacket part, showing off the dark red stain. Q hissed.

"Just a scratch..."  Bond blinked hard several times to try to clear the sudden wavering of his vision.  He must be exhausted.  Q flickered in front of him, like duplicate images slightly out of phase, but the rapid blinking of his eyelids refused to bring them into focus again.  For an instant this new Q's face disappeared entirely and was replaced with another...

A familiar face.  Thin and smiling, two curling horns rising out of a shaggy mop of dark hair, and the pointed chin cradled in a taloned hand...  Bond couldn't breathe.  The smiling face gazed down at him from where the lithe body straddled his chest.  The creature giggled and leaned over him, running one taloned finger down his cheek.  The stuff of dreams... or of nightmares.

"Bond?  007?"  Focus returned with a snap and was drawn to Q's puzzled and slightly concerned expression.  

"Medical, I think.  Might have taken a knock to the head."

Bond's hand automatically went to his head, fingering gently through his hair seeking tender spots.  He realised Q now held the gun and his hand dropped to his side.  He really was so very tired and his side was throbbing, but he would be damned if he went anywhere near Medical.


	2. Chapter 2

They lingered in the shadows of the Manor House vaguely visible as they stepped sideways off the path into the tangible realm watching the iron monster move away.  "He can't just leave as such."  the smaller dark figure sighed, leaning against the nearest tree, his form became part of the background image.  
  
"He seems to be doing just that very thing though.  Remember he told you to leave him be.  Rejected all knowledge of what is meant to be." The taller female figure stated sadly.  Clad in dark leather the visage of her cold beauty was a thing that nightmares were made of.  
  
"He just didn't understand..." large dusky wings slowly vibrated through the air, wrapping around the smaller figure in a gesture of trying to comfort himself, shielding.  
  
"The lad had just lost all he had... those that sired him.  You cannot expect him to accept what he can't see or understand yet."  
  
"It was the time of knowing though.  His father was to tell him soon." He huffed back at the female beside him.  
  
"But that very thing didn't come about did it... And it doesn't change the decision that has been made now."  
  
"But he is the Laird of all now.  There is The Binding between Kith and Kin," wings unfolded as he waved a pale taloned hand at her direction attempting to emphasise his point.    
  
"And if he doesn't return, what of The Binding then?"  They both knew the answer to the question but neither wanted to openly verbalise the answer.. the end of Kith and Kin..    
  
"He'll come back."  Green eyes fluttered up at her as a slim hand pushed back dark curls, winding them back around his spiralling horns. "I know he will."  
  
"You have no clue of the world out there.  He won't return. It will be too much of a temptation to become part of,"  She huffed back at him. Stepping close she ran a hand down the ridge of his dark angled feathers sadly knowing what lay ahead in their future.  Small sad smile played at the corners of her dark lips, a gesture that was reserved for him alone.  
  
"He's just a lad.  Unprotected.  I can't allow it."   His wings unfurled pushing her aside.  "I'm going to follow him.  Watch over him." 

“You are no Jack to defend the young Laird.”

“I could be.” His wings flared out to their full width as he tried to look menacing. “Well I could…”  
  
She towered over him but dared not say ‘Look at yourself’, but instead scoffed "You're a fool.  And what becomes of you if he never comes back?  Will you stay out there with him?"  
  
"If I need to..."  The air blurred around the two as their visage began to blend into the trees and the earth surrounding.    
  
And the faint echo of "I still say you're a fool..." whispered on the wind.    



	3. Chapter 3

James crouched low, creeping forward through the heather in a commando crawl.  The flowers tickled at his nose and he giggled, shrieking when a slight figure swooped over him, wings outstretched.  For a moment the sky went dark and then the fierce blue returned in a blaze of sunlight. James flopped onto his back, forearm shielding his eyes from the sun.

"Jamie?  Jamie, lad, where are you?"  

The fluttering wings became just another dancing shadow on the moor at the sound of Kincade's voice.  James was supposed to be learning to clean the guns, not playing, but it was too nice to be indoors.  He scrambled to his feet and started to run down the hill, but suddenly the ground was gone from beneath his feet and he was tumbling, falling...

Bond threw himself awake, perspiration coating his skin and breathing rapidly.  It was several moments before the sensation of falling left him and he was able to stop gasping like a goldfish out of water.  

"Fuck!"  He hadn't thought about that place in years.  Not the moors, or Kincade.  Not the house, or... his parents.  Now wasn't the bloody time.  The dressing on his side pulled painfully as he twisted out of bed, rubbing his hands through his sweat-damp hair.  He reached for the painkillers on the bedside table, then discarded them.  "Bloody drugs.  Make things cloudy" he murmured to himself.

The dream kept coming back to him as he showered and dressed, poking at memories he had long since boxed away in his head.  He didn't care if he never saw the forbidding old house ever again.  He was determined never to think of it as home.  Not that anywhere had ever truly felt like home since, but that suited him just fine.  No links, no ties.  It made him an excellent candidate for his job.  

Driving towards Six, his thoughts turned to the fresh young thing that was apparently his new Quartermaster.  He didn't look a day over 22... maybe a young looking 25 at a push.  Smart, obviously, and a sharp wit which Bond could appreciate, but he was less sure he liked the boy's obvious lack of awe at his presence in Q-branch.  He quite enjoyed terrorising the younger techs, but this youngster seemed singularly unimpressed by him.  Possibly even disdainful, and that would never do.  Even if his delicate good looks were appealing and somewhat familiar.


	4. Chapter 4

Q shut himself inside his office and with a flick of his hand he had silenced the surveillance monitoring and set the windows to opaque privacy mode.  He leant back against the doorway to his office, hands running through his hair before making its way to his other forearm that he scratched at unconsciously. 

57 hours and 11 minutes he had been shut away in this monstrosity of a man made fortress of steel and iron, bricks and mortar.  He needed out to feel the breeze, absorb the tide and flow of the ancient river just beyond his reach at the moment.   His skin itched and the need to shed this appearance was becoming a distraction.  

With a heavy sigh he flopped down in the chair at his personal workstation,  head fell into his hands, elbows propped on the edge of the desk.  He closed his eyes, reached out, trying to focus on the sensations of the world around to refocus and regroup.  

The door to his office opened. He didn't even have to open his eyes to know who it was.  He recognised that change in the flow around him.  “Don't you know it's rude to just barge into someone’s private office without knocking on the door, Bond.”  

“Did I catch you doing something inappropriate Q?”  Bond’s sarcastic tones floated over his skin.  

“Hardly Bond.  That would be more your Modus operandi.   I, however, am just resting my eyes for a moment before trying to step outside for some air.”  Q slowly stood from his desk trying to pull himself back inside wrapping the illusion tight around.  “Are you here for a reason Bond or just to annoy me?”

Bond had just returned from a mission a few days early and was still on mandatory down time.  Q watched him move farther into his office, assessing the healing progress of his latest mission involved injuries.

“Why does your office smell like damp earth Q?” Bond stopped abruptly a few steps away from the Quartermaster glancing around searching for the source of the smell.

“Because we are buried and forced to work underneath the shores of an ancient river bed.”  Q tried to deflect his questioning.  “Sometimes the questions you ask Bond make me wonder how you were chosen for the Double O program.  Now get out of my office.”


	5. Chapter 5

Bond crouched at the far side of Q branch in the shadows and watched the young Quartermaster at work.  A headset nestled in his wild hair and his face was illuminated from the four screens in front of him.  The night crew occasionally bothered him with a question or observation, but otherwise he was entirely focused on whichever mission he was running.

Bond’s side of the room was deserted, the daytime analysts long gone.  It was a little after 2am and he was exhausted, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet.  It was a pathetic state of affairs when this cavernous, impersonal room felt more homely that his own flat.

“If you insist on loitering here, 007, you should sleep.”

The thin figure towered above him, wings like inky shadows draped around him like a cape.  Bond looked up, startled by Q’s silent appearance, and found a sharply angled chin and wide mouth pointed down at him. His eyes were lost in the mass of black curling hair.

“What?”  Bond scrambled back a few feet, collapsing on his arse.  “Q…?”  He blinked and rubbed at his eyes.  When he looked again the Quartermaster was looking quizzically at him.

“Sleep, Bond.  You look like you need a good ten hours.  You bloody agents seem to think you’re indestructible, even when you aren't in any danger.”  His voice softened. “Take the sofa in my office.  There’s a blanket in the bottom drawer.”

He offered Bond his hand and after a moment the agent took it, expecting to pull the slight man down on top of him, rather than being assisted to his feet, but without any discernible effort he found himself on his feet.  Q reached out and gripped his shoulder to steady him, sharp nails biting through Bond’s shirt.

“Ouch!  You need a manicure, Q” Bond smirked to hide his discomfort.

Q immediately dropped his hand appearing embarrassed.  He turned and walked briskly back to his workstation throwing out over his shoulder “Office. Sleep.”


	6. Chapter 6

3 am in the morning was perfect timing for Bond to decide that he was going to go off mission parameters, once again adding his reputation as being a bullheaded pain in the arse to handle Double O.

“Just what do you think you are doing 007?”  Posh voice edging towards a snarl over the comms.

“I'm doing my job Q.  Am I disturbing your beauty sleep?”   Bond’s breathing sped up as he ran across an open space between buildings, gunfire echoed in the background.  

“I thought beauty sleep was something you required on your downtime.” Q motioned to one of his techs who quickly supplied him with blueprints of the building site. “It would be nice if you occasionally listened to those who are attempting to help you complete your mission.” Rapid keystrokes filtered through the comms as Q demanded Intel updates from his overnight techs.  “3 heat signatures to your east.  Head southwest towards the warehouse area.”

“I’ve got this Q.”  Gunfire once again echoed through the speakers in Q Branch followed by a huffed grunt from the agent on the other end of the comms.  

“007?  Status?”  

“I'm fine, Quartermaster,” But Q knew that voice as well as his own and it had a hidden grimace of pain buried underneath.  Another exchange of gunfire.  

“There is a smaller storage building 2000 meters south that is hidden from direct view.” A specific hand motion to the nearest tech garnered an immediate reply of the ETA of the extraction team.  “If you can make your way there, extraction team has an ETA of 20, possible 15.”

Deep sigh proceeded the response of, “Understood Quartermaster.”   Bond leaned heavily against a wall hidden from view as he shoved his handkerchief into his wounded shoulder to stem the blood flowing steadily from it.  He gathered himself, assessing what would be the optimal route to the pickup point.  Faint breeze stirred around him, and something… the faint scent of … something lacing through the air caught his attention.  

“To your left, 007.”  The calm posh voice came to him.  

"Left?  You said south, Q"  Bond bitched, trying to breathe lightly so as not to give away the pain he was in.  The handkerchief was already soaked in blood and he was having trouble focusing.  Artery nicked.  Blood pumping.  Not good.

"Just take a left, you stubborn bastard"  Q's insult was delivered in surprisingly gentle tones.  "Keep walking...  your pursuers can't see you.  Get under cover of the trees."

"There are no fucking tr..."  Bond could smell the pines before he saw them.  A sandy path melting into a needle covered trail to his left.  Ideal cover in the circumstances.  He stumbled towards them, dodging bullets as they zipped past his head.  None found their mark however, and he was concealed in the shadows within minutes.

"Yes.  Keep going.  The storage building is 100m ahead of you.  Extraction team confirmed 10, so keep your head down.  We'll have you out of there in no time."

The path was soft beneath Bond's feet and twice he stopped, turning in a slow circle to wonder at the tall trees, so dark green they almost appeared black.  Each time Q urged him on through the earpiece, swearing softly when Bond veered from the path, until eventually a rough wood hut came into view.

"Get inside and stay silent.  Extraction team with you in 5, maybe a little more."

"Ok."  Bond managed a grunt then half sat half fell onto the hut's floor.  Blood loss was rapid and he vaguely thought that it was something he should report to... someone... and that there shouldn't be trees but...

Everything faded to black before he could form another coherent thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Bond had been debriefed by M, passed through medical, and been patched back together.  Two weeks.  A minimum of two weeks out of the field before another check in with medical to see if he would be cleared for field work once more.  He strode through the hallways of MI6 finding his feet taking him unintendedly towards Q Branch, the faint scent of pine haunting his thoughts.

He hesitated outside the heavily secured glass doors of the division observing the coming and going of the geeks of MI6.  Q stood at the far end of the cavernous room directing the workflow like a well tuned orchestra with an unexplainable intuition.    At times all it took was a glance or a hand movement from the reedy dark haired man and one of his minions was immediately there with whatever he had requested.  

He became mesmerized by the scene before him, having no idea how long he had stood there until his field senses kicked back in and he felt eyes on him.  Glancing up he met the stare of green eyes from the far side of the room.  Eyes that slowly owlishly blinked as a faint upturn of a smile passed briefly across the Quartermaster’s face.   The barest scent of pine and the moors drifted past Bond for just a brief moment, but long enough to draw his attention as a shadowy outline of… something… wavered behind the Quartermaster.  

Bond abruptly turned on his heel and stalked in the opposite direction.  

The metal tin had held biscuits when Bond was a child.  Now it sat on the table between a bottle of Scotch with only an inch left in it, and a rumpled pile of woollen scarf in the colours of his boarding school house.  Memories.  That was what the tin contained.  Painful sharp memories that he had boxed away in the tin at twelve years old and had wrapped tightly in the scarf.

He hadn’t thought about the tin in years.  It was transported, along with all of his other possessions, from house to house and stashed in the back of a cupboard or drawer, but now he had been drawn to seek it out.

“Well… it won’t open itself…”  He tipped the last of the Scotch into a crystal tumbler and took a long swallow, putting off the moment he released… what?  Some kind of ghost or spirit?  His grief wasn’t raw now, but he felt his heart hammering in his chest.

“Fuck it!”  Bond flipped the lid off the tin and then sat back and waited for something to happen.  Nothing did of course, and he gave a nervous chuckle as he leaned in and began to sift through the papers inside.  Old photographs of his parents, and himself as a youngster, were set to one side.  Death certificates for both of them, and his parent’s marriage certificate.  He had just picked up a large black and white photograph of a forbidding looking house when there was a knock at the door.

“Q? This is unexpected…  Is everything alright?”

Q walked past him into the flat without waiting for an invitation and headed straight for the lounge where Bond had spread out his memories.  Q took it all in at a glance and turned with a bright smile.  “A taste of home?”  He brandished a bottle of malt whisky - Ben Nevis, not Bond’s usual choice.

“Home?” Bond echoed stupidly, “But how did you…?”

“Well I would say Bond from the age of the tin, the quality and style of the photos… and anything other than personal items that only mean something to you would be shut away behind formidable securities.”  Q commented nonchalantly beginning to open the bottle of single malt,  searching for another tumbler. “Observational skills.  Agents are not the only ones who have such things, Bond.”

Q wandered around the table where papers and photos were lying, drink in hand. “I realise you have job to do out in the field.  And… you are very good at it.”  He paused pick up a photo that caught his attention, looking at it thoughtfully with a small smile.  “However, I have a job to do also, which involves keeping you safe.”  Glancing at the photo once more he laid it down off to one corner of the table by itself.

“If we can’t manage to work together whilst you are out in the field or you can’t trust the intel I am giving you, then we won’t make the successful team that M is expecting us to be.” Q downed what was in his tumblr in one go. “I will not let you down Bond.  It is what I’m sworn to do.  Queen and Country… all of that nonsense.”  Sitting his empty tumbler down on the table, heading towards the door.  “I know trust is a difficult thing, but not misplaced.”  He left Bond sitting alone in the flat without another word.  

Bond sat silently, tumbler clasped in both hands, staring at the items lying on the table and thinking about Q’s words.  The faint scent of pine, the damp moors, drifted through the flat.  It drew his attention, pulled him from where he was lost in thought.  He suddenly stood, rounding the table, picking up the photo that had drawn Q’s intense attention.  It was a photo taken from the back of the Skyfall manor looking out of the grounds belonging to the estate.  Groups of pines and scrub dotted the view with the background rising up to the rolling hills of the estate with the edge of the lake in the far corner.  Something drew his attention to a spread of pines halfway between the manor house and the lake’s edge.  A shadow stood out at the edge of the pines, one he had never noticed before. An outline of a figure, only partially visible, but curled around and above the form was the shape of what could possibly be thought of as wings… large enveloping wings.  


	8. Chapter 8

Bond was sprawled face down across the bed, shirtless but still in his trousers, one knee bent and his hand tucked beneath his cheek. The recovery position, Q thought, wondering if that was a conscious move on the Agent's part given the lack of whisky that remained in the bottle.  
  
Q crept forward like a lengthening shadow, approaching the sleeping man silently.  Bond didn't even stir when Q crouched by the bed, shuffling and arranging his dark wings behind him, a feathered cloak thrown back.   
  
"Laird of Skyfall" Q said softly. "The land is calling to you, Jamie.  Surely you must feel it?  We have not forgotten you, but the old ones sleep long past their time of waking.  They fear you will not return and I am a fool to lock myself in a man made cage that makes me ill, just to live with false hope."   
  
Bond's eyes flickered behind his lids, following a dream that Q couldn't touch, even though he reached for it.   
  
"Maybe that's it..."   
  
Q spread his wings as far as he was able in the room without knocking something over and shook them gently dislodging several black feathers of varying size.  He plucked one from the floor and taking the pointed quill he scratched the word Skyfall into his forearm.  Blood beaded along the edges of the letters and he used the soft tip to brush it away.  Tucking the feather carefully behind Bond's ear he smiled showing pointed teeth.   
  
"Dream of us, Jamie..."   
  
Q melted away into the shadows just as Bond shifted in his sleep.

Warm blood trickled down his cheek.  Bullets ricocheted off a brick wall too close to his head exploding fragments of stone.  Bond fired back in pursuit of an arms dealer who was determined to sell nuclear weapons to an upstart dictator.

Bond ran.

Wove through buildings.  

Down alleyways.  

Scaled walls.

Dodged.  

More bullets.

And never seemed to gain any ground  on the mark he was chasing.

Building wall disintegrated and tarmac gave way underneath his feet.

Background blurred and began to solidify into something that wasn’t familiar but yet…

The leaves and other detritus on the ground sprang up in a sudden gust of wind that swirled them around him, a dust devil that cleaned the ground and suddenly froze. Moldy leaves, small, mossy rocks, and broken sticks hanging in an ethereal wall around a pine that was suddenly directly in front of him.

Movement on the ground that was covered in a soft bed of pine needles caught his eye.  Tugging at the bottom hem of his trouser legs and his shoe strings were three small delicate creatures made completely of twigs, leaves and green mossy growth for hair with two very dark deep set eyes that stared at him with familiarity. Another one of the creatures was suddenly perched on his shoulder poking at his ear.

He stared in disbelief scrubbing a hand over his face hoping they would be gone when he opened his eyes again.

“You come home, Laird?   Home to stay?”  The tiny creature whispered in his ear.   He batted it off his shoulder and it hit the ground exploding into a pile of rubble that within moment reformed into its original shape trying to offer what seemed to be a quirky smile up at him.  

“Laird is home!” One jumped up and down excitedly.  

“Big Man said bring freiceadan to him!” Another one hopped back and forth from one foot to the other

“Home! Home!”  The third clapped its little twig hands.   The tiny stick creatures danced around his feet squealing and squeaking in tiny odd voices.  

“Enough out of all of you!” A voice he should know came from behind him.  “Don't be a bother to the Laird.”  The stick bundles all shook and huddled together.

One of the small stick creatures huffed.  “Laird’s  Gruagagh…”

“I am not the Laird’s Gruagagh! “ There was the faint sense of heat and the brief sound of crackling flame.

“Squawk sorrrrrryyy!”  One whined pitifully to someone or something behind him.

“Pleaseeee.”  Another squeaked, eyes wide.   

“Not want to be fire fodder! No no noooo!” The third whimpered waving little stick hands around motioning to someone unseen.  

Bond turned at a movement behind him, hand reaching out ready to fire on whoever was approaching, suddenly realising he had no weapon gripped in his fingers.   Before stood a familiar face… at least partially.  The chin and face were thinner, elongated slightly.  Dark curls were long and wild around two spiralling horns that rose up through them.  Dark wings gently unfurled and moved high above his shoulders and thin form that was covered in… But it was the eyes he knew. Vivid iridescent  green.  Eyes that were brilliant and so very old.  

“Jamie…” thin lips curled up in a knowing arrogant smile.  

Bond threw himself awake and literally out of the bed onto the bedroom floor gasping for air.   “Blooding fucking hell.   Q…”


	9. Chapter 9

Bond was restless for the remainder of the night, waking frequently from dreams of his childhood and the house, isolated in the bowl of the valley.  His parents were filmy ghosts, intangible and fading away whenever he tried to look at them directly, but the old gamekeeper seemed solid enough to be standing next to him.

One scene played over and over in Bond’s mind as he made his way to Q-branch turning the mysterious dark feather that had fallen from his hair, over and over in his pocket.  The tip of the quill was dark with rusty brown blood, and more glued the fine filaments together.  Not his blood.  And fuck… definitely NOT his feather.

His stride faltered as he neared his destination, but with a final push he forced himself through the door.  He pushed it far more aggressively than he intended and it slammed into the wall with a thunderous bang.  A number of Q’s closest techs squeaked in terrified surprise at the normally suave agent who was unshaven, and dressed in a washed out t-shirt with his crumpled slept-in trousers.

“Q?  Is where?”  he demanded, thrusting his hand with the feather into his pocket, grimacing as the sharp spike grazed his hand.

“Can I help you, 007?”  The smooth tones came from behind him and Bond whirled around.  

The smile… that smug smile....  

“Show me your teeth!”  Bond demanded, swaying slightly.  His head still felt thick with booze, more so than when he’d finally given up on sleep and dragged himself to the kitchen for coffee.  It made his limbs sluggish and his fingers clumsy as he pulled out the feather and pointed it at Q.

“My… teeth?  Are you quite alright, Bond?”  

Q looked calm, but took a step backwards as he recognised what Bond was holding.

“Is this yours?  Did you leave it in my bedroom?”

A couple of sniggers rose from behind workstations and one brave soul rose to peek at whatever the item was.  Q reached out and plucked it gently from Bond’s outstretched fingers, slipping it between the covers of the manila folder he was holding..

“I think you should visit Medical on your way out, 007.  Ask them to check on your medication, and see to that bleeding scratch on your hand.  Don’t want it to become infected… do you?”  

He gave Bond a bright toothy smile, that showed perfectly normal, straight white teeth, but as he turned to walk away Bond gasped.  Dark wings formed from shadows, stretched out and then settled neatly against Q’s back, there for an instant and then gone again, with that lingering scent of pine…


	10. Chapter 10

Bond paced the MI6 car park in front of the slot where his Aston Martin idled.  He was on forced medical leave for two weeks, stirring his ire intensely.  Too much time on his hands to think… drink… and think some more.   And the urge to drive northward had been an irritating itch just underneath his skin since the haunting dreams had started.

Multiple times he had started to head inside the monstrous building finding himself once again drawn to the glimpses he thought he had of shadowy outlines looming above and behind the Quartermaster.  But he had gotten as far as the security station each time and talked himself out of it, returning to pace the tarmac once more.  

Q had spent the last five days in this iron and concrete man made hell hole with not once a glimpse of the light of day, let alone anything green.  He was so ready to disappear for a few days.  His skin itched and felt way too tight.  His eyes burnt.  He needed to be in his own flat, locked down, where he could just be himself if only for a few brief hours.  Being contained within this urban forest weighed heavily at times.  But, it had been his choice.  One, even now, he would not abandon.

“Security has a staff driver waiting for you,” Tanner approached him as he dead tired packed things into his messenger bag.   “Don't take the tube or think you are going to walk, Q.  You’re too exhausted.”

Q just glanced up at Tanner bleary eyed and nodded.  

“Remember, four days out of here.  M’s orders.  We’ll only call you if it's World War lll.” He added as he walked Q to the outer doors of Q Branch.  

“It's all yours,” Q waved a hand at his second in command as he headed out for some much needed down time.  

Bond turned in his pacing circuit just in time to see Q exit the building and stop to speak with security.  He quickly jumped into the idling Aston Martin and pulled quickly up to the security station.  “Get in the car Q,” he demanded throwing open the passenger door.

“I have a ride. Staff driver is …” Q started only to be interrupted.

“Q.  Get in the car.”  

“Bond.  I just want to go home.  It's been a long time since I’ve seen my own bed.  I want a shower.  To wear something clean.”

Bond hesitated for a moment and then added.  “Please Q.”

And who was Q to ignore a demand from Bond.   

Q leaned forward and started to fiddle with the sat nav in the dashboard, snatching his hand away when Bond reached out to stop him.  "I was just going to put my postcode in..."

"No need, Q.  I know where you live." Bond growled.

Q shot him a curious glance, but settled back into the passenger seat, hands curled over his messenger bag.  Bond's hands were tight on the wheel, and his shoulders were tense.  Q could feel the unease and indecision rolling off the agent but all attempts at drawing him into conversation were met with grunts or short bitten off sentences at best.  Soon Q gave up and allowed the motion of the car to lull him into a light doze.

Until Q felt the car increase in speed, far too fast for central London traffic.  His eyes flicked open to see them heading up a slip road onto a main dual carriageway.

"I thought you said you know where I live?"

"I did.  I didn't say I was taking you there."  

Bond risked a glance at the young man beside him and quickly looked back to the road.  The dark shadow of wings filled the car, extending beyond the cabin, through the roof and the passenger door.  He cracked a window to let the intense scent of pine escape, far stronger than any air freshener could produce, even if he had one.

"Then, where..?"

"Home.  My... home."  The word felt alien in Bond's mouth.  He had a residence in the city, but it was always just 'the flat', never 'home'.  Using it now, for that place...  It set an itch between his shoulder blades.

"To Skyfall?"  Q asked softly, and then quickly "I read some things.  Files.  To better understand my agents."

Bond frowned but waved a hand, dismissing the confession as unimportant.  "Settle in Q.  It's a long drive.  Oh..." he held out his hand  "Phone.  Now."  Q handed his mobile over reluctantly, managing only a small exclamation of dismay as it went sailing out of Bond's window to be crushed in the moving traffic.


	11. Chapter 11

Q sat back and watched the countryside move past them for a while attempting to assess Bond’s mood and how to proceed with the situation.  He was now minus his phone.  No way to call for assistance or even contact Moneypenny to apprise her of his status.  

He turned to face the agent in the seat next to him.  “Bond, I really should be back in city in case something should arise.  And I have things I needed to work on at home while I am off.”   Bond ignored him, hands still tightly gripping the wheel.

“Besides, I haven’t been home to feed and water my cats in days.  They need attended to…” he started trying to come up with another excuse to convince Bond to stop the car.  

“They’re fine Q.  Taken care of.”  Bond briefly glanced around.  Shadows filled the car, as the feathery outline flared and then wrapped itself around the smaller man sitting next to him. He immediately turned his eyes back to the road, trying not to be distracted by what he knew he was seeing but logically knew he wasn’t.

“Taken care of?  What are you talking about Bond?  They need attention… fed.. I…”

“Done Q.  I fed and watered them.”

“You what?”

“Broke into your flat.”  was the simple statement Bond made as if it was a normal everyday happening.

Q’s head fell back against the car seat with a deep sigh.  “I suppose there is no talking you out of this,  is there?!  Why are you taking me to Skyfall, Bond?  What do you hope to accomplish with this kidnapping?”

"Not kidnapping you.  Taking you to visit.  There are things that remind me...  You.  You remind me..."

Bond trailed off with a shake of his head as though he were trying to keep himself focused.  He slapped the steering wheel with the heel of his hand.  "No more questions.  Go to sleep Q, you're exhausted."

Q tried to argue but Bond resumed his taciturn disposition, glaring ahead like he could will the miles away, and completely ignoring his reluctant passenger.  Eventually Q dozed, falling deeper into sleep even though he found the car claustrophobic.  Bond may be a dangerous man, but Q still remembered the young carefree boy, who wouldn't dream of hurting him.

Q must have slept soundly for several hours because the next he knew Bond was shaking him roughly by the shoulder.  "We're here.  Get out and follow me in."  The agent didn't wait, stalking towards the house with a sense of purpose even though his shoulders were hunched beneath the suit jacket.  Neither of them were dressed for the rain which lashed at any patch of bare skin and soaked into their clothing instantly.

Q slammed the car door and looked around, heedless of the water streaming down his cheeks.  He was home.  The taste of the air was sharp and clean, and the energy of the earth pushed against the soles of his shoes.  Somewhere out there, not too far away, his kin slept, and very soon they would wake to the feel of their Laird back in his lands.  With a sigh Q followed Bond inside.  He was far from a victory yet...

"Back here"  Bond called from a room to the rear of the property.  Q could hear drawers and cupboards being opened and slammed shut, accompanied by muttered cursing.  The contents of at least two drawers was strewn across a large dining table and Bond was rifling through it.

"What are you looking for?  Maybe I can help."  

Bond looked up and shivered.  The wings were there, unmistakable, curled around the slim man protectively like a heavy feathered cloak.  They seemed more substantial here inside the house, darker at the tips, but still ghostly.  The Quartermaster gripped his messenger bag and stared back unblinkingly.  

"A book.  Photographs... A key to the attic, and...  Wait!"  Bond looked manically around the room then crossed to the wood panelled wall.  He ran his hand over the wood and pushed slightly until a small door swung open.  "This! Do you know where this leads?"

Q stood staring at Bond trying to remain as neutral as possible.  “I have no idea what you are talking about Bond.  A book, photographs, and I most definitely have no idea where that passage leads or what it is.” Although the smell of the Scottish earth from within the tunnels was almost more than he could stand.  It called to him.  Sang to him of home.  Kith and kin.  

“But you…” Bond scrubbed a hand across his face breathing heavily trying to regain his composure.  However when he turned back to face Q the shadowy outline of wings was still there.   This had to be real.  There was something he was missing.  He couldn't be losing his mind.  

“Maybe we should go back to London, James.”

“No!  We are staying until you tell me!  Until I understand what's happening.”

If they stayed much longer the presence of the Laird returned would begin to call to the others.  If only Jamie would remember, but he wasn't sure he could risk saying anything at this point in time.  And somehow he needed to let the others know that he wasn't yet ready to claim what was his.  

"Well, if we aren't going back to London, you should sleep.  You look like you haven't in days, and we both need to eat...  I assume we aren't completely out of range of a half decent take away?"  
  
Q turned away from the enticing earthy smell and dropped his messenger bag on the table.  "I'll go to the kitchen and get a fire going.  You call.  Meat something, not too spicy."  He headed directly for the kitchen leaving James gaping after him.  
  
Q only realised he should have no idea where the kitchen was when he was standing in front of the large stone fireplace reaching for the matches on the left side of the mantle.    
  
Bond stood in the doorway, mobile in hand, watching the easy way Q moved around the kitchen.  He seemed more at home in this cold stone shell than Bond had felt anywhere in decades.  The shadowy wings spread and stretched, shook and then folded.    
  
"No takeaways, Q.  Food in the fridge."  
  
"Not sure if I'm more or less creeped out by that.  At least you didn't plan on starving me."  Q lifted thick cut ham, butter and cheese out and found fresh bread in a box on the counter along with veg.  He started making doorstep sandwiches, thickly spread with butter.  
  
"I have someone who looks after the place.  Called ahead."  
  
They ate in silence, Q pretending to check emails on his phone, Bond battling to suppress his yawns.  Eventually Q lost patience.  "Bed.  You still aren't well.  You need to rest.  I'll work for a while and then..."  
  
"No, you stay with me.  In sight.  Come."  
  
Following along like a pissed off puppy, Q found his protests and excuses fell on deaf ears.  Bond pushed him through a door three on the left.  "We'll sleep in here.  Door locks.  If you need the bathroom, wake me."  
  
"You're joking!"  Q stared at the wide double bed, the only furniture in the room except for one chair..  "There must be half a dozen other bedrooms..."  
  
"Seven.  You stay in here with me.  Your virtue is safe."  Bond unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it free of his trousers.  His belt slithered free and he toed off his shoes.  Q swallowed hard when Bond's trousers fell to his ankles and he stepped free, sliding under the heavy blankets with his back to Q.  "Turn off the light before you get in."  
  
Q flounced in the lone chair in the room watching Bond snuggle down into the bed, duvet pulled up around him until the older man's breathing evened out as dropped off to sleep, yet he seemed to toss and turn in restless dreaming.  
  
The pull of home called loudly but here he was locked in this room with Jamie.  He dared not try the door or the window that was also secured for fear of waking the man, knowing his agent training would kick in at the smallest out of place noise.     
  
Q pulled his legs up into the chair, arms wrapping around his knees.  He couldn't help but remember the young boy who he had spent many a dark hour whispering and giggling with in that very same bed. Such a long time ago it seemed.    
  
Kith and kin began to stir.  The song of the return of the Laird reaching them.   Q stood at the large floor length windows drawn to the whispering of his kin.  Wings arched behind him, growing more tangible to the visible world.   Slender talon tipped fingers gingerly worked the locks on the hinged panes of glass until the cool highlands air drifted into the room.    
  
Home.  It had been too long, time spent following and watching the Laird in his journeys.  He needed to connect with kin once more.  But more importantly, he needed to let them know the Laird was not yet ready.   Patience was needed.  
  
And with one small step, he disappeared out the open window.


	12. Chapter 12

The dark damp air was warmer under the dense foliage.  Excited chatter babbled around him and taloned fingers reached out to caress his wings.  Home. Home, home, his blood sang.  
  
"The wanderer returns" an amused female voice spoke over the clamour.  "Let the boy through."   
  
The small crowd of grabbing hands parted and Q was able to fluff his wings, settling the feathers neatly into place.  "Sister" he greeted the woman, bowing slightly.  "We must speak."   
  
"Indeed we must.  The others are already gathered, but...". The tall woman laid a hand in the centre of Q's chest stopping his progress.  "You are sick.  Stay with us a while.  Rest and heal."   
  
Q shook his head. "No. Jamie needs me.  I can't stay long.  We will return to the city tomorrow." He shivered at the thought of all the man made structures pressing down on him again.   
  
Bond thrashed in his sleep, tangled in the blankets, dreams invading...   
  
Wings folded around the laughing boys as they tumbled in the sun baked heather, a rare hot summer turning patches of lush greenery to brown brittle sticks.  Suddenly they parted and the taller boy collapsed laughing onto the ground.     
  
"You don't fight fair" the blond boy chuckled, grabbing the dark one's ankle.   
  
"You'll never learn if I go easy on you, Jamie."  The sun disappeared behind the canopy of his wings as the grinning boy loomed over him.  Laughing eyes, green eyes.  Familiar eyes.   
  
"Q...?" Bond threw himself awake and reached for the young man beside him, determined to demand an answer, but the sheets beside him were cold and empty…

Cool night air drifted through the bedroom as Bond reached for the other side of the bed once more to assure himself it was empty.  "Q?"  He asked the darkness again sitting up suddenly searching the room for him traveling companion.    
  
"You were dreaming," a calm familiar voice reached him from the darkness near the window.     
  
Startled, Bond moved swiftly from the bed. Crouching beside it in the shadowy darkness, gun drawn in full mission mode, only to find Q sitting in the bedside chair that had been pulled close to the now open bedroom window.     
  
Bond peered across the room into the darkness.  Moonlight filtered through the open window lighting the young man sitting there.  

It was Q.

His Q.

His Quartermaster,

And yet…. the horned features of another appeared briefly.  Bond shook his head in frustration, and when he glanced up once more those features were gone… leaving only the glittering familiar green eyes that he remembered oh so well.   
  
"Couldn't sleep.  Too quiet here." Q calmly stated.  "Enjoying the breeze."   
  
"Window was locked."   
  
"You must have been mistaken Bond."   
  
"You're a city boy, Q.  I'm surprised all that fresh air isn't burning your lungs."  Bond said tartly, punching the pillows until he could recline more upright and watch the younger man.  The harder he stared, the more stubbornly the horns refused to reappear.   
  
"I have ventured beyond London once or twice in my lifetime, 007.  Go back to sleep.  I'm not tired but I promise to be quiet."   
  
"James.  Please.  If you do decide to share the bed, we should be on first name terms."  A spark of the old 007 flared making Q smile despite himself.   
  
"Not something I believe you usually insist on.  Should I be honoured?"  Q snarked back, finding comfort in their usual banter in their unusual situation.  Nevertheless he rose and kicked off his shoes, placed his folded glasses under his pillow and lay down quietly, waiting for the other's breathing to sigh into sleep.  "Jamie..." Q whispered, rolling onto his side and extending a wing over them both.   
  
When Bond next woke it was light outside and Q was absent again.  Bond buried his face in the pillow he was hugging tightly and inhaled the scent of the forest on the valley walls.  It was pine, but so much more complex, and it pulled at him, taunting him with dreams just out of reach… of laughter, and play, and a boy with dark hair and green eyes.   
  
"I need the bathroom" Q roused him from the half doze.  "And I really do think we ought to head back to London.  If I can help you find what you are looking for, I would be most grateful to be on the road by noon.  Perhaps you could see to breakfast while I shower?"   
  
Bond's last action before leaving the bedroom was to check the window.  Not only was it closed, it was securely locked with no trace of a key.   
  



	13. Chapter 13

Downstairs in the kitchen Bond had begun to make a hearty breakfast of eggs, streaky bacon, and fruit as Q quickly showered before joining him. The large kitchen area was warmed by the hearth fire. Bond pulled out a load of fresh heavy grained bread and butter setting them on the kitchen table as Q moved around the kitchen making coffee as if he was completely at home in the space.  He couldn't help but stare at the faint outline of the feathery wings that spatially maneuvered themselves around the cupboards without bouncing off of them.

“James?” Q’s voice broke through his contemplating stare bringing him back to the matter at hand… cooking breakfast. “Do you need help with the cooking?”   

“No.  I'm fine... I’ve got it…” as Q reached for plates above him in a cupboard. Bond turned his back to the younger man abruptly trying to dispel the vision of wings… and those green eyes looking right through him.  

When he turned back, their plates were filled.  “Sit.  Eat Q. “

They ate in silence, Bond avoiding eye contact with him until Q couldn't stand it anymore.  “What are you… we looking for here James?  There seems to be something important you came here seeking.”   He wanted so much to blurt things out, to push Jamie to remember but he feared it would just drive him away further.  He needed to find this place… his place of belonging on his own.  

“There’s a photo, other things…” Bond stood from the table.  “Memories stashed away… and you.” Q heard him add almost as an afterthought as Bond left the kitchen to start his search again.  

Q left him to it, taking care of the dishes and cleaning up, which gave him time to think and usher the curious winged smallfolk off the kitchen windowsill.

“Go!  The Laird is not returned yet.” He whispered crossly, flicking a tea towel in their direction.  Their excited chatter would perhaps draw Bond’s attention, but given the agent’s disturbed mood, Q couldn't guarantee ‘hallucinating’ small winged human-like figures wouldn’t push him over the edge.

When Q entered the room where the concealed door was, he was surprised to find Bond absent.  He wandered from table to drawers picking up random objects and allowing their memories to bleed into him. Most told him nothing, but a few, natural treasures from the outdoors that he and Jamie had collected as boys, held joy.

There was a muffled cough and Q realised the small door was ajar.  Concerned he may intrude he tried to creep from the room but Bond’s rough voice called “Q…?  Get in here.”

It was cramped.  The tunnel stretched behind, right out to the moor, but the small area that Q was familiar with, that could possibly be termed a Priests Hole, was barely big enough to accommodate two grown men.  Bond sat in a stone alcove, hugging his knees, leaving the dirt floor free for Q to crouch beside him.

“When I was a boy” Bond began “my parents were killed. But of course you know that.  For a while they didn't know what to do with me so I stayed here with Kincade.  This was my safe haven.  I had a friend, imaginary friend, they said…” The agent pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, speaking into the dim space.  He wasn’t tearful but seemed to be clinging to his sanity by his fingernails.  

It wasn't what Q wanted.  He reached out and laid a hand on Bond’s arm.  “Lots of children do.  It’s quite common.”

The shadowy wings extended towards Bond but he shrank from them, scrambling suddenly for the door.  “Is it normal that they have your eyes?” He spat as he made it back into the bright room.  Before Q could answer he disappeared into the upper reaches of the house.

Q could hear Bond stomping up the stairs to the upper level bedrooms.  Suddenly small hands tugged at his trousers and a voice spoke from the darkness of the tunnel behind him.  “The outer world has made him forget, but the land that is his calls to him.”  

“It does… pulls at him. But I'm not convinced he will ever completely answer it's call.” Q sighed moving towards the light at the entryway.  “Best see to him. We’ll be leaving soon.”

“Stay brother.  You aren't well.”

“I must see to the Laird.  I won't break my promise.”

“Even if….”

“Even if.”

Bond made his way to the closet in old bedroom not noticing the few tiny bits of heather that were left behind dotting the upper hallway.   He was inside the closet rummaging through boxes when Q found him holding a small wooden box in one hand and staring intently at something in his other hand.

“James?”

Bond stared captivated with the dark feather that he clutched in his right hand.  One that he had saved from oh so long ago.  Memories of dark feathery wings that curled around him surfaced.  Warmed him.  Protected him. One dark feather.  And a duplicate to the one he had found in his bedroom.  

“James?”

Bond swiftly shoved the feather into his pocket along with a photo he had saved.  

“We need to go.”   Bond turned suddenly and pushed his way past him.  “London. Back to London.  Get your things Q.”  Q shook his head in frustration as Bond disappeared off into the Manor house somewhere.

Q gathered his things and planned to wait for Bond to reappear in the main lounge area of the house but the longing for home, kith and kin, was too much for him.  Called to him.  Until he made his way outside.  

Q stood at the edge of the massive spread of pines, staring off into the shadows, whispering… and the shadows whispered back to him.  His thoughts were so far away that he didn't sense Bond standing in one of the windows of the manor house watching him… and watching the shadows that moved and seemed to interact with his Quartermaster.  


	14. Chapter 14

Their return to London was uneventful and quiet.  James’ brooding made him disinclined to talk, so Q passed the time dozing or staring blankly at the road.  He was relieved when the motorway gave way to city streets and finally they pulled up outside his flat.

“See you at Six” Bond muttered just before Q slammed the car door shut and Bond roared away.

Weeks passed without a visit from Bond to Q-branch.  He had no reason, of course, until he was declared fit to be sent out, but it worried Q and he found himself regularly checking the agent’s progress through Moneypenny.

“He’s fine.  He’s James” she said, one evening over dinner.  “Nothing gets to him.  I swear the man has no emotions at times.”  But Q wasn’t convinced at all.

Bond’s dreams became more vivid, more insistent, and now the winged figure had Q’s face, not just his glittering green eyes.  Night after night, Bond tried to follow the shadowy laughing figure, but every time those wings carried him away into the dark forest and left Bond behind.  On several occasions he woke, sweating and breathless, reaching out to the young horned man, and his fingertips brushed soft wings.  In the morning, the matched pair of feathers lay on the bed beside him, but he had no recollection of retrieving them from his bedside drawer.

A month later Bond was called in to see M.

“You’re needed for ‘Push Pin’.  Weapons drop to the southern rebels.”  Mallory turned a page deliberately and scanned down Bond’s evaluation scores.  “You’re not fit, but we don’t have any choice; you’re the man they know and trust.  If we put anyone else in there it will be a disaster.  Report to R for your equipment; your flight leaves in three hours, be on it.”

Of course he was the man they knew.  He had been working this group for a long time. But unfortunately, not only did they know him but they now knew who he was and who he worked for in reality, thus adding Intel to the mission parameters that from the start set it up to become a complete utter fiasco.  

And now Bond lay coughing up clots of blood on a cold warehouse floor suddenly realising that M was right, he hadn’t been fit to be out in the field.  

“Bond!  Status!”   Q was determined that he answer him but it didn't really matter anymore.  “Tanner.  ETA on Evac Team.   Give me better Satellite imaging for a five block area and all the CCTV within the perimeters of the warehouse.”

“Bond.  Answer me.  I know you're still with us”.

“Can't you just let me die in peace Quartermaster without you nagging me in my last few moments.”  Bond gasped as pain shuddered through him.

“You are not dying Bond as long as I'm your handler.  I refuse to let it happen”  Q pushed at him hoping to provoke him to hang on a little longer until someone could get to him.

“Hate to tell you Q, you might not have a say…” Bond’s comment was interrupted by a wet cough.

“ETA…”. Bond vaguely heard Tanner’s voice in the background.  

“Not good enough,” Q responded.  Q motioned in the direction of his office for privacy.  Tanner and R realising that if they were going to lose the agent that entire Branch need not be privy to those last moments.

“James?  Still with me?”  As Q shut his office door behind him.

Bond’s hand had drifted to his inner coat pocket.  Nestled there, ever since they had been to Skyfall, he had started carrying the two matching dark hued feathers.  He now clutched them in blood slicked fingers in front of his face.  

“Q.  Tell me the truth.  I need to know… Wings…” as he started to struggle to stay awake.  

“Need to know what Jamie?   The soft posh voice answered closer to him than it ever should have been.

Bond didn't answer, blinking hard to clear the blurred image of his Quartermaster leaning over him.  A Quartermaster with clearly visible horns and concerned green eyes, despite the hazy face and the looming canopy of wings.  A Quartermaster who should be far away in London.  
  
"Rest Jamie.  Don't fight me.  I need to take you home."   
  
"Home...". The word was a wet gurgle, followed by a wracking cough that spread the dark red stain further over Bond's chest.  "Med team..."   
  
"No time for that. Won't let you die now, Jamie."     
  
Bond felt himself hoisted into the air, body screaming in pain.  The blackness crowded in from the edges of his vision as the Quartermaster stepped into the shadows with the agent in his arms.  Air rushed by Bond's ears, warm and damp, smelling of heather and wet bracken, pine and leaf mould.  Voices whispered, concerned and fearful, and tiny hands plucked at Bond's clothing, like dreams given substance.  A tiny figure appeared close to his face, sharp featured and sobbing... Bond screamed...   
  
The evac team entered the warehouse under cover of two armed agents, noisily and confused, having abruptly lost contact with the Quartermaster.  Their leader tried to raise contact on the comms as his team swept the area, searching for the downed agent.     
  
A crackling line was soon established, female voice echoing oddly down the poor connection.     
  
"He's not here.  Confirm life signs."   
  
"This is R.  No life signs in the building.  Check outside... he can't have moved far..."   
  
She glanced at the closed door of the Quartermaster's office.  If Bond was dead her duty was to recover the body.  Bring him home.  The comms crackled into life again.   
  
"He's not here!  Blood on the ground, significant volume, but no body.  I repeat, no body."   
  
R swore.  Surely they hadn't taken the agent's body with them?  It would only slow them down and be of no value, but the only life signs were their own people...   
  
"Sweep the compound.  If nothing, withdraw."

Q exited his office like a whirlwind to those in Q Branch.  “Sitrep!  I lost all communications!”  Throwing his headset onto the nearest workstation.  “Choudhari,  Status of communications.  Losing connectivity is unacceptable!”

“Evac Team status is negative.  No Bond. No body.”  R immediately responded.  

Q rounded on her. “Impossible!”  He grabbed another headset and connected to the Evac Team.  “Signs of them taking 007 with them?   Could he not have been as injured as we suspected beforehand?”   The banter and questioning continued going back and forth until Q stated with a sigh,  “Tanner, we need to inform M that we’ve lost 007 or he’s gone dark again.”

Bond dreamt of a soft feather ticked bed. Warmed quilts.  Pain and blood. The smell of pine and heather on the crisp clean moorish breeze.  Of feathers and strange hushed lilting voices. Someone calling him Jamie.  Of strange eyes. Hands touching him.  Changing bandages.  Syrupy odd tasting drinks.  Small hands. Large hands.  Leaves, sticks and twigs.  And green eyes, a posh soothing voice, and large drape dark feathered wings brushing against him.  

When Bond finally woke, slowly drifting towards the real world, he had no idea where he was at first or how long he had been unconscious… or maybe his luck in the field had finally run out and he was dead.  

Either way, he was somewhere he shouldn't be.  The master bedroom at Skyfall smelled of fresh cold air from the open window, but was warmed by the blazing fire in the hearth.  He was resting on his back, between fresh, clean sheets and his wounds were dressed and healing.  His head fell back against the pillow and he let his eyes adjust to focus on the ceiling.  He should be dead.  Was he dead?

An insistent beeping from the bedside table drew his attention.  His phone was charging and an alarm informed him his medication was due.  The date ten days since he set out on his mission.  Laid out on the tray was an array of pills in familiar foil packets, and a number of bowls of what looked like dried herbs and green slime.  He swung his legs out of bed with barely a wince and poured a glass of water, swallowing a couple of painkillers.  Definitely not dead, and everything about this room was familiar in the distant way of not having spent much time here for years.

Walking to the bathroom pulled at his wounds.  He shouldn't be able to move, much less walk, but he managed with bearable pain to reach the full length mirror.  T-shirt fell to the floor.  Soft pyjama bottoms hung low on his hips.  Much of his back, stomach and chest was patched with hospital grade adhesive dressings, of the kind normally administered in Medical, but he was certain he had never made it back there.

Whispering voices behind him had him stumbling for the door but there was no one there, although he thought he saw movement by the stairs.  He was going mad, else someone else was in the house.  A nurse, or...

"Kincade?!"  

The house remained stubbornly silent, no answering shout or footsteps.  Cautiously he descended the stairs, clinging to the banister for stability.  Such a short walk exhausted him but he needed to know who else was here.  Who was caring for him?  And why here?  Why not in London?  But downstairs was deserted, the refrigerator mostly bare and the kitchen hearth stone cold.

Wearily he climbed the stairs again, pausing frequently to rest.  Someone would come soon.  He couldn't possibly be alone here.  And then he would get answers to his questions.


	15. Chapter 15

The trek down the long staircase and search through the house had exhausted him.  Bond sat back down on his bed trying to process everything that had happened to him, how he was at Skyfall.  Hand moved to the dressings on his back, stomach and chest confused as to how he actually was still alive and recovered this much from the wounds he had received.

Bond laid slowly back down on the bed exhausted.  While he drifted off the sleep once more, silent footsteps moved around him and whispered voices appeared.  Somewhere in the distance they seemed to register with him and before he knew what had happened, he found himself waking an hour or so later from dosing once more.  On the bedside table sat next to his phone, was a platter of cheese, fruits and thinly sliced meats and a chilled pitcher of something.   Someone had been there.  He wasn’t alone in the house and lay there silently listening for voices or movement.

Just then his phone alarm sounded with a notification that said ‘Take Medication’ obviously set by someone, someone who had been there at some point.   Bond snatched up the phone, silencing the alarm and dialled a number hoping he would get the person whom he knew had answers for him.

"Bond..."  The posh voice acknowledged him softly.  "One moment please."  There were muffled voices in the background and then footsteps, the sound of a door closing - Q's office door - and privacy engaging.  "Should I act surprised that you're alive and well?"  The familiar creak of Q's desk chair as he sat.

"Act?"  Bond asked sharply, the image of the winged, horned Quartermaster coalescing in his mind.

"Naturally, 007.  The rest of Six is either frantic or exasperated by your disappearance, largely depending on whether they believe you alive or not.  Mallory in particular swore at length this morning in a briefing, convinced that you had gone dark simply to piss him off."

"But not you, Quartermaster."

"Not me, what?"

Bond growled.  He couldn't suppress it.  "You don't need to act.  You know where I am and how I got here.  You somehow arranged for me to be transported here and nursed and...  Who the hell is it Q?"  Bond winced as he moved too quickly in his agitation, hissing out a breath.  There was a long pause at the other end of the line.

Q weighed up his options.  Deny it, or give Jamie the push he and the land so desperately needed.  His teasing tone left and he leaned forward, elbows on his desk.  This could go so badly wrong.  "Yes.  I know where you are.  I took you there myself, but you know that Jamie.  Don’t you remember?"

“You couldn’t have Q!  You were hundreds of miles away from me on the other end of the comms.” Bond snarled at him wishing he could reach into the mobile and grab the younger man at the other end of the call.

“Well then someone did Jamie because you are where you are… Scotland.  Skyfall.”

“Quit calling me that Q!  You’ve no right to…”

“It’s your name isn’t it.  You can’t deny it.” Q snarked back at him on the other end of the mobile.

“Who are you Q?   You are not who you say you are!”  Visions of dark feathered wings haunted Bond’s mind and the smell of damp morning laced pine and heather on the moor drifted through his room.   

“I’m your Quartermaster….” Q hesitated just not sure how much to push him yet.  “...just an old friend, Jamie.  One who watches out for you.”

A picture of Q leaning over him as he lay on the cold ground, life blood seeping out of him, became clearer in his head.  Q’s green eyes peering down at him, dark mop of curls.  But also the presence of two spiraling horns peeking out of those dark curls.  The scene all shaded by two massive dark wings.

“You need to tell me!  The truth Q… all of it.” Bond demanded.  If the younger man had been in the same room with him at the moment, he would have him backed against a wall, hands around his throat making his demands.  “Now!  Who the hell is here with me?!  I need to go back to London!”

“You’re not fit to travel, Jamie.”

“Then you come here Q!  Now!” Bond sank back down on the bed again.

It was an opening.  Just a cracked open door, but Q leaned on it, seizing the chance.  In two strides he folded himself into the darkest shadowy corner of his office, phone still in hand so he could continue to listen to Bond's snarky muttering.  And stepped into the dark...

The warm wind mussed his hair and tugged at his clothes.  Q stretched out his wings and fluffed up the feathers.  He could still be rejected but Jamie was asking the right questions finally.

"Is it time?"  Tiny voices whispered on the wind, and the small ones fluttered around Q's shoulders.  A tall figure fell into step beside him.  "Are you sure about this, brother?"

Q smiled nervously.  "Only one way to find out..."  Taking a deep breath he stepped into Bond's bedroom and tossed his mobile onto the bed at the agent's feet.  "Well.  Here I am, Jamie."

Bond gasped and scooted up the bed before he managed to claw his unruffled agent calm back into place.  Mostly.  It took a long few moments for him to lower his own mobile from his ear and drop it onto the bed beside him.  

It was Q, no doubt.  One of his usual horrid cardigans and plaid pants, glasses stubbornly sliding down his nose, only to be subconsciously poked back into place by a slim finger.  Only it was not Q. Too slim, sharper features... and the curling horns, and heavy cape of wings that were as substantial as Bond's own hand.  The agent flipped the pillows off the bed, searching for the gun that was always under the pillow but came up empty handed.

"Q... Stay the fuck away from me..."

"It's in the drawer to your right, Jamie, if it makes you feel more secure to have it in your hand while we talk?  Go ahead.  I'll wait.  But I promise you, you are in no danger from me, Laird of Skyfall."

Bond scrambled for his Walther which was just where Q, or whoever.. whatever he was, had said it would be.  He pointed it directly at the man… standing right in front of him. “You’re in no danger, Jamie.  Not from me or any of us.”  

“So you admit there are others here!”  The gun shook in Bond’s hand, but at this range, there would be no missing him. “They need to show themselves.”

“In time… in time.” Q leaned against the footboard of the bed, dark wings gently in motion high above him.  “There’s plenty of time for that.  You’re home now.  You need to heal more before you can travel.”  

There were whispering little voices from somewhere within the room and yet someplace distant. Words that just quite could not be understood except for the word ‘Laird’ occasionally, ‘Skyfall’ and ‘home’ .  Startled Bond swung the weapon in the direction of the whispers.  Nervously he scrubbed his other hand over his eyes with the wishful possibility that his vision of Q would not include wings and horns when he turned back to him.  

“They’re talking about you Jamie… Laird of Skyfall.  They are curious just as you are and hoping that you have returned to them, to this Manor House, to the land where you belong.”

"I'm no Laird, Q.  Not of Skyfall, and not of anywhere else.  I don't belong here anymore."

Even as Bond said it he felt the tug of the house and land around it, strong and unmistakable, begging him to recognise the manor as home.  It was both reassuring and uncomfortable at the same time.  

"Yes, you are, and if you care to look hard enough around here I'm sure the evidence will be found somewhere.  Your father was never meticulous in his filing, but I know he kept bits and pieces.  Enough to explain it all when the time was right.  Sadly, time was not on his side."

"What do you know about my father?  Have you been snooping while I was sleeping?"

The winged Q looked offended.  "I knew your father, Jamie.  I knew this house as well as you did.  I know every inch of our lands."  A small bird appeared from nowhere and settled on Q's shoulder.  Q turned to it with a smile and murmured words Bond didn't understand.  When it fluttered off again it was no longer bird shaped.  

Bond scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand. Tiny flying figures were somehow worse than a horned Quartermaster.  Realising shooting at whispers was probably futile Bond made the Walther safe but kept it close at hand.  He didn't trust...

"Are you a demon?"  the agent asked abruptly, gesturing at Q's head.  "The horns... the wings...  Is this the real you?"

Q sighed, wings fluttering enough to move the air within the room. “The real me… this me is real. Just as real as the other me you are more familiar with now.  Although that one involves a tad more glamour than this one.” a small quirky small crossed his face showing the tips of pointed teeth.  

Bond was startled and his attention turned to gentle tapping on the outside of the window panes.  A flock of small birds fluttered there as if they were seeking entrance to the bedroom.  The vision of them morphed faintly into tiny figures as they fluttered and the changed back to small colourful songbirds once more.  

“You really aren't losing your mind Jamie.  Open yourself to home… you’ll feel it.” Q took a step towards him. Bond retreated a step.  

“Go search your father’s study Jamie if you want answers.  It's all there somewhere.  The Binding well documented for you…” Q cocked his head to one side as if listening to something unheard in the room. A slender clawed hand reached out to pick up his mobile before stepping backwards away from the bed and Bond.   

“I'm needed. R is seeking me.  Just call me and I'll return, Laird of Skyfall.”   

“Stop calling me that!” Bond snarled at him in frustration.  Q stepped back towards the shadows of the doorway.  Folding this dark wings in and around himself cocooning himself within.  And in the blink of an eye he form blended into the shadows leaving Bond alone in the bedroom once more.


	16. Chapter 16

An avalanche of paper fell from the desk and spread out across the floor, momentarily distracting Bond from the folder he was flipping through.  He thought he saw a quick dart of colour flit away from the mishap and he growled nervously.  Small folk, whatever the hell they were, seemed intent on wrecking his methodical search of the room, but so far he had found nothing of interest.  Frustration and hunger were starting to poke at his temper, and glancing at his watch he realised more than five hours had passed.

His mobile vibrated with a timely notification for medication and food, so he placed the useless file on the growing stack of worthless information and went to tidy up the files that had spilt on the floor.  His fingers brushed a large manila envelope and a bolt of energy shot up his arm, knocking him flat on his arse.

"Fucking hell!"  Bond cradled his tingling hand to his chest and regarded the envelope suspiciously.  It slid towards him a couple of inches, hushed chattering dying off as he cautiously reached out.  A shaft of late afternoon sun caught vibrant tiny wings as the little ones fluttered to a safe distance.

"Ok...  Hint acknowledged."  

Bond tentatively scooped up the envelope and weighed it in his hands.  It was slim, but felt heavy, and when he let the contents slide an inch past the opening he found old, brittle paper, folded and yellowed with age, alongside a number of official typewritten documents on modern headed paper.  

"Alright.  Eat first,  then I'll read..."  he addressed the room  "And you, if you're still here, tidy up this mess."

Sitting at the scrubbed pine table in the kitchen, half eaten sandwich in front of him and a cooling mug of black coffee pushed to the side, Bond surveyed the contents of the envelope spread out in front of him.  The envelope itself told him nothing and had been discarded.  The remaining papers had been sorted into apparent age - the most recent more than thirty years old, the oldest... impossible to say.

Q had returned much later in the day as the light was fading to find Bond sat at the kitchen table, crumb covered plate in front of him and a many times refilled coffee mug.  He lurked in the shadows for quite some time watching Bond read and reread the contents of the envelope scattered far and wide across the table in front of him.   Bond looked exhausted to him, needing to be back in bed.  However, he realised though, that would not happen until they had a conversation and some questions were answered.  Whether the answers would satisfy Bond was another story altogether.

This time when he stepped out of the shadows he was Q… human Q, thinking it would be easier for Bond to speak with him in a form he was more familiar with seeing.

“Your father’s will was in that envelope, also his copy of the Binding.” Bond startled at Q’s voice suddenly coming for the far side of the kitchen.  Q stepped out of the darkness as he kept talking, hand gesturing towards the papers scattered on the table.  “I’m sure you have questions, Jamie.  I’ll try to answer what I can for you.”

“Where are you wings, your….”

“Still here.” a vague outline of dark feathery wings appear stretching high above Q’s back.  “I just thought that this might be a little less distracting for you.” he tugged at the hem of his cardigan, smoothing it back into places with one hand while the other pushed his glasses back up onto his nose, both nervous gestures that Bond was familiar with in Q.

“What does all this mean?” Bond shoved a pile of papers in his direction.  But then Q watched him almost reverently gently pick up the eldest of the paper that was definitely showing it’s age, edges tattered and torn.

"The Binding...  May I?  I have not seen it for myself.  The Old Ones guard our copy with such reverence."  
  
James laid the fragile document on the table between them and Q's dark head bent to read the ornate script.   
  
"It's no language I have ever seen" James commented, following the flowing symbols with a fingertip.  "Can you read it?"   
  
"Some.  It's an ancient tongue, formal and verbose, much like reading a legal contract" Q frowned over some of the phrasing attempting to reconcile with the stories passed down through generations via the storytellers.  "It is a contract of sorts.  While the Laird resides here at Skyfall, the Unseelie are protected, free to roam the land and pass through the gateway between worlds.  Here on your lands they protect you also.  Your person and your property"   
  
"Given that I am rarely here, their protection is ineffective."   
  
"Given that you think so little of your own well-being, you are a challenge to anyone who watches over you" Q said tartly. "Tea?"   
  
Bond nodded and continued to peruse the document, flipping through handwritten papers until he found what he was looking for.  "I think this might be a translation...  the grammar is appalling, but if it was a literal decoding word by word that would explain it.  It says here that their influence does not extend beyond the ancient boundary of Skyfall because they will not venture into the tainted world of men."   
  
Q shrugged and met Bond's piercing gaze defiantly.  "Will not.  Not can not.  When the Laird is not aware of his obligations someone must put aside their connection to the land and ensure he is protected until such time he comes home.  It was a sacrifice I was prepared to make."

“If the Laird is aware of his obligations and leaves his protected lands, then the protection stated in the Binding is not supposed to follow him.” Q continued turning his focus back to the documents in front of them.

“Is that another ‘is not supposed to’ but just might ignore what is stated in the addendum of the document Q?”  

Q huffed at him and proceeded to act as if he was intensively studying a particular sentence in detail.  “Well I couldn’t just let you waltz off like that without anyone watching after you.  You were just a boy. Not ready yet.” Q  stood quickly moving to the window at the far end of the kitchen peering out, back turned to Bond.  The faint outline of wings appeared once more, unfurling and then wrapping themselves tightly around Q’s slender body.

Bond took a step towards Q who leaned heavily on the edge of the kitchen sink. “I don’t know what you are expecting of me.  This is not me.” Bond waved a handful of papers at him, cornering him against the counter.

“It is you, Jamie.  Was always meant to be.  Has always been.”  Q spun around suddenly to face him. Wings became tangible fluttering around and above the smaller man.  Features had become sharper… angled and the spiralling horns had appeared once more.  

Q moved too quickly for Bond to react, cupping the agent's face in his hands and gazing intensely into his eyes.  Unnerved by Q's odd catlike pupils, Bond tried to pull away but Q's fingers tightened behind his ears holding him still.  
  
"Remember Jamie.  I know you do, Please try.  I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.  Think back to when you were a boy.  What did you do and where did you go?"   
  
He released Bond's face and waited with as close an expression of anxiety as Bond had ever seen on his Quartermaster's face.   
  
"Why is it so important?" Bond growled.     
  
Q's other form was becoming more substantial the longer they stood there.  For the first time the older man was able to take a close up look at the strong dark feathers that matched the two he had collected previously.  Q shuddered as Bond's hand trailed along the edge of his wing.   
  
"Because we are trapped in a world that is slowly dying without our Laird.  Skyfall is crumbling.  The stone of the Manor, the withering heather... the very land is being eroded  and our Magick is fading.  Soon the doorway will close forever and we will become the Lost People."

Bond’s hand rested against the dark feathered wong, feeling it move slightly under his fingers as Q drew in a deep breath. Vague memories began to surface of tumbling and chasing across the moors with his dark winged companion giggling.  A voice whispering to him at night when he should have been asleep.  Being scolded by Kincade for the mischief they had caused as his feathered companion stood peering out from behind a close by tree, but Kincade including him in the verbal scolding.  

And then one final memory, hidden in the dark earthy tunnel.  Distraught.  Weeping.  And your closest friend in the world wrapping you within his wings trying to comfort.

“Jamie.  If I stay out there any longer with you…” Q’s sorrow laced voice pulled him back from his distant thoughts.

Bond stepped back from him looking briefly directly into those brilliant green eyes before turning.  “I need to go back.  Take me back to London.”

“As you wish.”  Without hesitation Q stepped forward, wrapping his dark wings around both of them, pulling Bond into the shadows with him. The air fluctuated, swirling around both of them, darkness enveloping them, as complete disorientation hit Bond.  The feel and smell of the ancient home faded.  No longer the crisp smell of the countryside… pine and heather.  There was pressure against his skin.  His ears began to ring.  And just as the nausea hit him and dark wings unfurled,  Bond dropped to his knees in panic finding himself within the darkened lounge of his flat in London.    


“Home as you asked.” was all Q said to him before disappearing back into the shadows completely.


	17. Chapter 17

Q closed the door to his office and sank into his chair, elbows on the desk and face buried in his hands.  His fingertips pressed against the base of his horns as he let the glamour fall, sighing as the weight of it fell from his shoulders.  It was getting harder to maintain, buried amongst all this metal and concrete.  Why was he even still here?  He pressed a hand to his stomach as it gripped violently, breathing through the pain until a sharp rap at the door had him hastily scrambling back under the veil of illusion.  
  
"Quartermaster!  We need to talk!"  Bond closed and locked the door and scraped a metal chair over to Q's desk, arranging himself on the hard seat and looking unusually ill at ease.  "You look dreadful.  You should go home."   
  
"That's not an option, Bond.  I have three agents out, a pile of paperwork for Mallory and a team firefighting an attack on our firewalls that's been ongoing for..." Q glanced at his watch "Just over six hours.  Tell me when, exactly I have time to leave, sleep, eat?"   
  
Bond leaned back in the chair, swinging slightly on the rear legs before letting them fall forward with a bang, echoing the slap of his hand on the desk top.  "I'm not talking about your bloody flat, Q.  You're barely holding it together here.  Soon the whole department are going to notice you're not exactly human.  Wings aren't regular attire..."   
  
"You want me to return to Skyfall.  Without you."   
  
"Of course, without me.  I'm needed here.  I can't go with you Q, even if I wanted to."   
  
"No, I'm not leaving.  Go away Bond, I'll be fine."  Q rose and tried to spread his wings, but they flopped dully, too weighty for his narrow shoulders.  He stepped towards the door, intending to evict the stubborn agent who had been starting the same argument for weeks now, since their return, but he stumbled and fell, bouncing heavily off the corner of his desk and into Bond's waiting arms.

Catlike green eyes slowly blinked up at Bond, before Q extracted himself from Bond’s arms. “Go away Bond.” Q insisted backing away, retreating to the far side of his desk away from the man.  “I’ll go when I am ready.”

“Whatever you say, Q.  You’re just doing yourself harm by staying.”  Bond held up his hands in front of him in surrender retreating back out of the Quartermaster’s office. He had half expected Q to have added that he wasn’t returning to Skyfall without him, but he hadn’t.

“He’s not there if you are looking for Q.” Bond was met by R as he headed towards Q’s office later in the day when Bond returned to check on him. “He wrapped up the things he had to attend to himself, reassigned some to me and others.  Took three days off.  Said he was feeling ill.  He did look horrid, like he was coming down with something dreadful.  Is there something I can help you with 007?” R reached for a stack of files on her desk looking to see if the agent was in the roster for an outgoing mission.

“No.  I just needed to speak with Q for a moment.”  Bond glanced at the closed office door before heading back out of  Q Branch wondering if Q had chosen to go back to Skyfall for a few days.  

The first day Q was gone, Bond wandered by Q Branch at least half a dozen times out of habit going to see the younger man before remembering that he taken time off.  On the second day, he broke into Q’s flat to see if he was there resting or had truly gone back to Skyfall.   On the third day, he wandering the corridors of MI6 out of boredom being a nuisance before finally breaking into Q’s flat again.  He spent the remainder of the day poking around through Q’s things and sitting on his sofa watching television.

On the fourth day, the beginning of the week, Bond made his way down to Q Branch again to check on his young quartermaster, hoping the time away had done him some good.

He was met by R, barely clinging to her calm demeanour as she waved away one tech, and grabbed a tablet from another.  "Where the hell is he?" She demanded of Bond, shoving the tablet back at the unfortunate young man and rounding on the agent.  She took his arm in a firm grip and marched him towards Q's office.  "The last person he spoke to was you.  Right before he suddenly decided to take some leave.  I assumed..."  
  
"What?"   
  
"I assumed that you and he had some kind of arrangement." She hissed, releasing Bond's arm when she realised she was manhandling a deadly weapon that looked pissed.  "All these clandestine meetings behind closed doors.  I thought maybe you and he were... you know?  And we're off together doing the thing."   
  
"Q?  And me?"   
  
"That's hardly important, Bond.  Where is he?"   
  
Bond gently guided her out of his path, directing her attention to another anxious looking bespectacled teenager, and sliding into Q's office.  Whatever crisis was befalling one of his peers was sufficient to prevent her following him.  Bond looked around Q's office and found the darkest corner.     
  
"Q?"  He called into the shadows, feeling foolish.  "Are you there?  Christ, don't make me drive all that way if you can somehow come and fetch me."   


Bond waited and paced Q’s office trying to decide what would be his next move.  What first caught his attention was the change in the air pressure in Q’ office and the scent of pine and heather faint but most definitely there.  Then the faraway voice barely audible. “Jamie…”

Bond searched the shadows until he found a slight visible fluctuation that resembled the outline of dark wings and slender hand with taloned fingers reaching out to him. Grabbing onto the hand immediately, Bond was pulled into the darkness, hand releasing his just as he stepped from the shadows into a space near the large fireplace in the main hall of Skyfall, disoriented but there.

“Maybe you can convince the young one he needs to return to us would-be Laird of Skyfall.  The door will close soon and he refuses to come join us.”  

Regaining his balance, Bond turned to the unfamiliar voice finding himself confronted with a pale skin woman, if one could call the figure that, a good head taller than himself, a figure that could have stepped right out of some of his alcohol induced nightmares.

Bond took a step back, hand drifting to his Walther, as she continued to speak in his direction but it was mainly chiding Q who lingered in the shadows.  “He refuses to go.  Insisted that he must watch after the Laird.  But look at him.  He’ll fade away if he stays here trying to protect a Laird that cannot see and does not care.”  Tiny figures swarmed through the room from the height of the two story high vaulted rafters to flitting around Q’s dark wings that he had pulled in tight around him.  

"You accuse me without knowing the circumstances" Bond said coldly.  "I did not abandon the estate by choice, but I have built a career, a life. Returning here at the whim of a creature I barely remember is not something I can, or wish, to do.  But don't make the mistake of thinking I don't care."  
  
The female inclined her head with a thin smile and stepped out of Bond's way.  "I remember you well, young Laird.  You are no less headstrong than your young friend.  Perhaps if you butt heads long enough one of you at least will reach the correct decision."   
  
She melted into the shadows surrounded by a cloud of chattering fluttering small folk.     
  
Bond knelt down in front of Q, reaching out to gently ease his dark wings apart so he could see the young man's face. Dark shadows made his eyes and cheeks seem more hollowed than usual and he shivered uncontrollably.   
  
"You're really sick.  Why didn't you tell me? Come to the fire and get warm while we talk."  Q shuffled closer and Bond took his elbow, dragging a chair into the pool of light.  "Your friend lit the fire?"   
  
Q shook his head.  "Kincade."   
  
A memory of a hot summer day, two young boys dodging the gamekeeper, made Bond smile.  "I might have known the silly old fool would be involved."   
  
Bond fussed around until Q waved him away wearily.  "I just need a few days here.  Then I'll be fit to return."   
  
"For how long, Q? You need to be here with your people.  If the door closes with you on this side...  I don't want that on my conscience."  Bond reached up to gently stroke the outer edge of one of the dark wings surrounding the man sitting in the warming area of the hearth.  

“It's my choice.  Jamie you're my…” Q stood and moved away from the hearth, turning his back on Bond. “I took an oath that I am bound.  I shan't go back on that.  Once made, always bound.”  

“Q…” Tiny voices chittered in the high rafters ceiling above them distracting Bond for a moment.  

“We’ll go back to London Jamie.  It's where you want to be.  Where you belong now.”   Q headed towards the darkest shadowed corner of the room.  “It's my choice Jamie.” He reiterated, voice sad, faraway.  “Nothing to burden your conscience with.”

"No, Q.  Wait!"  
  
Bond hadn't moved from his place by the fire.  When Q looked back, the chair in the glowing light looked tempting, but if they didn't leave now his resolve would disappear.  "Bond..."   
  
"No, just listen. Please."   
  
Q took his place gratefully not sure he could remain on his feet much longer but reluctant to let the agent see how weak he felt.  He waved a slim hand in weary defeat.  "Carry on."   
  
"You say I need to be here.  Accept that I am Laird of all this, and all will be well? You won't be sick, the door won't close and your people won't be lost?"   
  
Q sighed deeply.  "The Binding links you to the land, not just to me.  Your protection of Skyfall extends to my people.  It's all in the document."     
  
"How much time must I spend here to hold up my end of the deal?  My parents travelled, stayed away from the estate often. Did he fulfill his obligation to you?"

“Yes he did.  Your father was a good man. Honoured his obligations and was a good friend to Kith and Kin.  He belonged to us and us to him.”  Q rose slowly from his chair, unsteady in his feet, heading towards the shadows once more.  

“How long Q?  Tell me.”  Bond insisted coming to stand directly in front of the Fae being.  

“More than you have to give Jamie,” Q sighed, the weight of all of it beginning to press heavily against him.  “A third of the year plus a day.” He finally offered up to the persistent look on Bond’s face.  

“What if I can do that?  Manage to be here the equivalent of that?”  

“You tease me Jamie.  Raise hope.  We know you don't consider this home.  Your obligation to 6  doesn't really fit into the scheme of it all either.” Q stepped into the shadows, only the outline of his wings still visible, taking a long lingering look at the dwelling known as Skyfall. “We need to go now, Jamie.” While I am still able to take both of us on this trip he should have added openly.

"If you come back with me now will you die?"  
  
Q's shoulders stiffened, wings stilling, at the blunt question.  "Nobody knows for sure.  The Binding has never been tested in all of the years since it was created" Q said softly "but it has always been a risk I was willing to take."   
  
"Not me. Not anymore.  But if I need to do this... make this my home for however long... you're coming back with me.  You're the most effective Quartermaster I have worked under.  And having you watching over me has kept me alive more than once.  I want to... I don't know... make a legal amendment to the contract or something."   
  
"It doesn't work quite like that, Jamie."  Q twirled a finger in his hair, tugging at a curl nervously. His wings vibrated causing a number of small squeaks of protest.   
  
"If it would bring you back to us, Laird of Skyfall, Q will try" the same female voice sounded from behind Bond again.  "I would argue against it, but the young one would go with you regardless."


	18. Chapter 18

Coffee cup in hand, Bond made his way across the yard towards the barn that was now an established stable with a mixed fair of horses.  It was one of the first things he did resettling Skyfall, a memory of his youth.  When he wasn't there, Kincade managed the stock and the other oddities that inhabited this realm of his.

“Get away from me you little shites.” Bond chuckled as a swarm of little wings encircled him in a rush hanging around him momentarily.  “He’s coming.  Not my fault he’s delayed with a mission. Shoo!”  He waved a hand at them, tiny giggles echoed around him and drifted off into the breeze as the ‘flock’ floated away.

Kincade was already in the barn occupying himself with general day to day chores as Bond came in still musing over his encounter with the little ones.  “You know, you did a good thing lad.   Things would not have been the same here without them.  They give more to us than anyone around here can imagine.”

A huge fat tabby wandered out from under the grain storage bin with a litter of mix coloured kittens waddling along behind her.  “Where did they come from?”

“Not my doing Jamie,” Kincade chuckled. “Best have a talk with your shadow about that one.”

"How is the estate looking, old man?"  Bond balanced his coffee mug on the open gate of the stall and started flicking through a ledger on the shabby desk.  The cat sniffed at his shoes, while the kittens tumbled and pounced on random stalks of straw from the stable.  Bond scooped a ginger striped fluff ball from the floor and nestled it into the crook of his arm, scratching its fuzzy head with one finger.    
  
"Checking up on me, Jamie?" Kincade teased, already knowing Bond trusted him implicitly with the management of Skyfall.     
  
Before he could answer there was a commotion at the far end of the barn and Q stumbled out of the shadows, fighting gravity to keep his feet.  He lost, and sprawled on the floor, losing his glasses in the process.   
  
"Why can't you ever be in the bloody bedroom or at least somewhere clear of trip hazards?"  Q muttered as he scrambled to his feet, dusting down his trousers and scowling at the smirking agent.   
  
"Why do you have to travel to the closest shadows to me?"  Bond handed him the kitten and picked a stalk from Q's hair.     
  
"It's just easier" Q grumped, stepping from the shadows completely and letting his wings and horns become visible, shaking off the Quartermaster and settling into his Fae being.  Immediately he was surrounded by the twittering cloud that appeared from nowhere.  "Yes, I'm back... yes, I'm staying...  oh for goodness sake..." he waved them away but he was smiling, instantly more relaxed for being home.

Q gently sat the kitten down giving it a gentle nudge back towards it’s brothers and sisters before stopping to glance around him.  Yes, the closest shadow near Jamie… the returned home Laird of Skyfall… a smirk slowly grew on his face.

“What are you thinking, you little shite.” Bond couldn't help but smile back.  

“Nothing… nothing at all Jamie.”  With that ‘I am so sweet and innocent’ sing song voice, but as Q stepped past him a wing flicked out to catch Bond off guard as he dashed out of the barn giggling as he ran  

“You little shite!”  Bond called dashing after him.  

Some things had changed.  Some things hadn't. Life in London still existed but the Laird of Skyfall had returned setting a balance back as it had been declared in the Binding.  And as in remembered moments of once before, there were two young boys, rough and tumble across the moors once more.  A little more weathered, wiser… connecting their worlds.


End file.
